


the riddles that you speak

by illinoise



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: (that is a week late oops), F/F, M/M, Modern AU, Valentine's Day Fluff, davey wearing jacks hoodies, jack and davey are domestic, kath is a useless lesbian, theres a lot of swearing too much im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 16:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13744836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illinoise/pseuds/illinoise
Summary: Jack doesn't know what to do for Davey on Valentine's Day.





	the riddles that you speak

**Author's Note:**

> hello! here's a week-late valentines day thing i wrote that i originally abandoned but finished this weekend, its very sappy. enjoy

Jack is in the haziest part of waking up from a nap when he sees a Valentine’s Day commercial flash by on the television. He shifts on the couch, lazy but also mildly panicked, and calls, “Davey?”

No response but clatter of dishware and the sound of water running.

“Davey,” he whines, loudly enough to be heard over the dishwashing. The water turns off, and he smirks to himself. Victory.

“Yes, sunshine?” calls an exasperated voice, distantly.

“Is it Valentine’s Day tomorrow?”

“Indeed.” Davey appears in the doorway of the living room, holding a damp dishrag. 

“We gotta do something! Were you just gonna let it slip on by? Come on, I finally got someone to spend the day with and you were gonna pretend it wasn’t happening?”

Davey lets his head fall against the side of the doorway and blinks at him. “It’s not a big deal to me,” he says. “I was hoping you’d forget because I don’t want you spending money--or time--on me.”

Jack widens his eyes and rolls his head back onto the armrest of the couch. “You literally make my teeth hurt. C'mere.” He holds his arms out in the signature Jack Kelly gesture of _I’ll whine you to death if you don’t come snuggle with me._

Davey makes his way to the couch and hops up to straddle Jack, who’s still on his back. “Hey,” he says, grabbing his shirt collar, “promise you don’t feel like you have to do anything tomorrow?”

“Promise,” Jack says, crossing his fingers behind his back.

Davey sits back on Jack’s legs, satisfied. “I have no class tomorrow, at least,” he says. “Lazy day. And now I have to be an adult and go to the store because I’m out of contact solution and my meds and orange juice. Hey--that could be my Valentine’s Day present? You go to the store?”

Jack wrinkles his nose at the idea of getting up. “Uhhh…. it’s not Valentine’s Day till tomorrow.”

Davey can’t help but laugh as he untangles himself from Jack. “You’re the reason they say romance is dead.”

-

It’s gotta be a surprise. That’s his only standard. If he’s gonna do something, he’s gonna fucking do it. 

The problem is thinking of what he’s gonna fucking do. He usually gets his best ideas from other people, so he decides to call up as many people as he can while Davey’s at the store.

“Race,” Jack says, when he picks up. “What kinda stuff do you do on Valentine’s Day?”

Race clicks his tongue as he thinks. “For Dave?”

Jack would make some snarky comment along the lines of “No, for my other secret boyfriend” but sarcasm doesn’t bode well with Race and he knows he’d be interrogated about said secret boyfriend. “Yeah, for Dave,” he says.

“I mean, I dunno.”

“Well, what are you doing with Spot?”

He can _hear_ Race’s grin over the phone.

“Okay,” Jack says. “Unhelpful.”

“Come on! Nothing says Valentine’s Day like sex. It’s traditional.”

“If I know anything about you and Spot, nothing about tomorrow’s gonna be traditional.”

“How kinky can Valentine’s Day sex possibly get?” Race protests.

“I mean, giant stuffed animals? Those ribbons that come tied around boxes of chocolate, you could tie someone with those. And isn’t there such thing as a food--”

Race stops the train of thought. “There’s a line about what kinks I wanna discuss with you and I draw it at food. Why not just do that for Davey? Go the ol’ fashioned way.”

“I mean, it’s just not very… us. I wanna do something real special.”

“Could be plenty special if you try hard enough.”

“Okay, can we stop talking about this?” Jack pleads.

“I mean, really, just be waiting for him--”

Jack covers his eyes like that will stop the images flashing through his head. “Race. Now I can’t stop seeing you and Spot.”

“Scatter some rose petals--” Race presses on.

“For Christ’s sake.”

“Light some candles--”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Put on some lingerie--”

“Good-fucking-bye.”

-

Jack’s rule of thumb: when your obnoxious gay friends fail, call upon the useless lesbians.

(Katherine came to him after Sarah literally confessed her goddamn love and asked him if maybe she was just being nice.

“Katherine, what the fuck, she pulled out the l-word,” Jack had said.

“Yeah, but yesterday I let her borrow my jacket when she got cold so maybe she’s just really thankful?”)

The phone rings three times before she answers. “Jack if you’re drunk somewhere and need me to pick you up I’m busy and if you need to borrow something I’m out of it.”

“Damn. I needed some tampons.”

She laughs. “Fresh out.”

“No. I have a serious question. What are you and Sarah doing for Valentine’s Day?”

She hums thoughtfully. “Well, we’re going out to have brunch together.”

“Are you getting her anything?” he asks.

“Chocolate. And some new skirts.”

Davey’s lactose intolerant and does not wear skirts, so that’s out.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, when he’s silent. “Can’t think of anything?”

“Nope,” Jack sighs. “He said he doesn’t want me spending a bunch of money on him or anything.” 

“Write him a sweet letter,” she suggests.

“That’s easier said than done. Especially by a writer.”

“Jack, come on. It’s Davey. You could draw him a heart with your wrong hand on a sticky note and he’d cry and keep it forever.”

She’s right. “I should have gone to the store and gotten him his damn orange juice,” he mutters.

“I have orange juice in the fridge,” Katherine offers. 

-

Useless lesbian #2. She’s Davey’s sister, for God’s sake--she’s gotta know what he likes.

She picks up immediately. “Hello?” 

“Sarah? Aren’t you at work?”

“I’m playing Panda Pop on my phone in the bathroom to hide from my boss,” she says. “What’s up?”

“I have no clue what to do for your brother on Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh, yikes.”

“He told me he doesn’t want me spending money or time on him but I wanna make him feel special.”

Sarah laughs. “That is so like him.”

“What are you doing for Kath?”

She sounds nervous. “I don’t wanna tell you, because it has to be a surprise and you’ve got a big mouth.”

“I do not!”

“Do you remember Secret Santa?”

“I don’t wanna talk about Secret Santa.”

“There wasn’t a person in the room who didn’t know what they were getting.”

“I swear, I’ll keep my mouth shut. Maybe I’ll tell Dave if I really can’t resist the urge but he’s good at secrets.”

“I think I might propose.”

Jack puts a hand over his mouth to stifle a shriek. “For real?”

There’s a smile in her voice. “I was going to do it on our anniversary but I couldn’t get it set up in time.”

“Sarah, that’s amazing. Hey, congrats, really.”

“Thanks.” She laughs, flustered.

“Knowing you two Katherine’s probably going to think it’s platonic.”

That really makes Sarah laugh. “Our vows are gonna be like, ‘I can’t believe you’re honoring me with the highest possible level of friendship there is.’”

Jack sighs. “Well, that’s amazing for you guys, but I don’t think Dave and I are ready for that yet.”

“No, you guys are five,” Sarah agrees. “Get him some lactose-free candy. It’s the thought that counts. I mean, that, or propose.”

-

Most people would consider themselves above calling their boyfriend’s mother for advice, but Jack is above nothing. He dials Esther Jacobs’s number and waits.

“Jack?” she asks.

“Yeah, hey, Mrs Jacobs. It’s me.”

“You and David okay?”

“We’re fine,” he affirms. “I just wanted some advice on Valentine’s Day. What kind of thing do you think I should do for him?”

She laughs. “God, you scared me. Well, you can’t go wrong with flowers. David loves roses, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s true,” Jack says. “What kind of thing do you and your husband do?”

“Flowers and a cheesy card. It gets less exciting the more years pass,” she says, with another chuckle. “I’m sure Davey will love anything you decide to do. Hey, maybe you could draw him something.”

Now that’s an idea. One problem, though: what?

Albert and Romeo are high when Jack calls them, and when he tells them he can’t get chocolate because of lactose intolerance Albert says, “Man, right, uh, you’re fucked.”

Medda, his foster mother, doesn’t answer, and Smalls, his foster sister, has never dated anyone. He even tries Spot, who says, “I mean, I guess we’ll have sex or something, I dunno.”

Just as he puts down the phone with finality, the door opens and Davey enters with a few plastic bags. “Hey, look what I got you,” he says, eyes bright as he reaches into one bag and pulls out a bundle of pink and yellow roses. 

They’re a little wilty and a little loosely wrapped and they don’t have a vase to put them in so they use a chipped blue mug. Davey leans over and sniffs them, then smiles. “Perfect,” he says. “Well, not perfect, but… us.”

Something kickstarts within Jack. Maybe a big Valentine’s present isn’t them. Their life’s small, and he likes it that way. 

“God, it’s freezing,” Davey mutters, hugging himself and shuffling to the thermostat in the hall. “Where’s the joint custody hoodie?”

“Y’know, there’s no point calling it that anymore,” Jack says, brushing past him to grab it. “You steal all my clothes.”

“I know, but it’s the original. Also the softest.” Davey gasps as Jack flings it at him, then pulls it over his head, and Jack will probably never get over how Davey looks in his clothes. 

Later, when Jack is settled on the couch and Flip or Flop is playing, Davey practices on the keyboard. Jack listens to the notes hitting the air. It’s a comforting sound, Davey’s keyboard--ever since they moved in here he’s been listening to it (and enjoying the moaning sounds it makes on the sound effect setting).

Watching him play, with his eyebrows furrowed down and his face focused, Jack feels a pressing need to touch him. So he does, standing and wrapping their Star Wars blanket around his shoulders and hugging Davey from behind.

“You have such a random need for cuddles,” Davey says, reaching up one hand to Jack and continuing to play with the other.

Jack blows a raspberry into his neck, making him shriek and flail and nearly fall.

Davey wipes it off and glares at Jack, who has fallen over from laughing and the instinctual shove Davey gave him. “You’re a bad, bad man. You’re horrible. What’s the Spanish word for evil, again?”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Jack whines, reaching for him from the floor in between giggles. “Come here, I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit,” Davey says, even as he helps him up and steals his blanket. “It’s late as hell, evil man. I’m gonna sleep. Are you coming?” Davey asks, starting toward the bedroom and reaching for Jack when he doesn’t follow.

Jack hesitates. “There’s something I gotta finish first.”

Davey sighs. “That scares me. You scare me. I’m going to sleep.”

Jack leans over to give him a quick kiss on the mouth and makes himself an easy target to have the blanket thrown over his head. “Jacobs,” he shouts, hearing snickering and yanking it off just in time to see Davey ducking into the bedroom. “I’m just tryna be romantic.”

He stands there for a moment, swaying on his feet, before he slips back into the kitchen and leans over the counter, staring at the roses. 

Sex, proposals, skirts, flowers, candy. It doesn’t matter in the end, does it? What matters is this--having David Jacobs in his apartment, listening to him play the piano and yelling at him for drinking all the orange juice and throwing Star Wars blankets on his head and stealing his hoodies.

He digs in the drawer for a pen, tears a piece of paper out of a notebook, and sketches what he knows.

He draws Davey, with the eyes he wakes up to every day and the mouth that twists with Jack’s pestering but that also kisses him and endures it all. Those damn Converse that are literally ripping at the seams but that he refuses to replace. To top it all off, roses in his hands.

No love note, because that isn’t them and it won’t ever be. A heart, drawn next to the pen lines of Davey’s arm--that will be enough.

He sets it on the table and switches off the kitchen light, knowing if he doesn’t he’s signing himself up for a Davey lecture about carbon footprints. 

Davey’s asleep when he slowly opens the bedroom door and then shuts it behind him. Jack lifts the blankets and slides into bed, feeling through the sheets and darkness until his cold hands touch warmth.

Davey wakes with a start and a groan and rolls toward Jack. 

“Sorry,” Jack whispers, knowing all too well how freezing cold his hands constantly are.

“No you aren’t,” Davey murmurs, turning on his side and drawing up one knee that knocks against Jack’s hip. “Gimme a kiss.”

He does, and when he pulls back, Davey shuts his eyes again. 

“G’night,” Jack whispers. And then, a nervous tacking-on of a phrase that feels too big no matter how many times he says it. “Love you.”

Davey smiles against the pillows. “Love you too,” he whispers. “Every other Thursday.”

So they’ll go to sleep. And when they wake up tomorrow, it’ll be Valentine’s Day and Davey will probably tell Jack about some weird dream he had. They’ll stay in bed until the afternoon because fuck it, they aren’t busy, and when they do get up they’ll cook breakfast together and probably burn it. Davey will Google how to keep roses alive and work diligently to do so while Jack rolls his eyes. They’ll do what they always do, and Jack knows that’s the best gift he could give.

**Author's Note:**

> say hi on tumblr @livingchancy (also leave a comment tellin me what you thought! if you wish!) <3


End file.
